Riddle Me This(Riddler x Reader Insert)
by Jazzifrazz
Summary: 22 year old (Y/N) is living on the streets, stealing to survive day to day, when an old friend stops by to take her under his wing. Follow (Y/N) (L/N) and Edward Nigma as their friendship is tried, tested and turned inside out. Will their friendship survive? Or will it be too much for them to hold onto? Or maybe...it'll become something more. Find out in this thrilling tale.
1. Chapter 1

I'm running, running from the sound of the sirens, and flashing lights. I had just stolen some bread from the supermarket, so I could feed myself for a while. I've stolen before, only because I'd starve if I didn't. I don't quite like stealing from people, but I have to. I always tell myself that I will pay them back one day, just to make myself feel better. I know I probably won't even remember the name of the store that I had stolen from, but I lie to myself anyway, just so I won't lose sleep over it. Why am I on the streets? Well, that, is a very long story.

I originally lived with my abusive father, until, he was driving home, drunk. (again) The GCPD had found his body in a wrecked car, his spine and neck broken, with no pulse, leaving me without a parent. They had sent me to the orphanage, where they basically pretended I didn't exist. The other kids were cruel to me, and I never retaliated. One day, an arson set the orphanage on fire, killing most of the inhabitants inside. I was one of the only ones to survive. So, I've been running, and hiding from the GCPD ever since.

That's my life, sad, yet true. So, here I am, running from the law, again. If I could change my life, I would. I know it is only a matter of time before they catch me, and put me in jail. I am only twenty two, and am hoping to build a better life. I even told myself I would, even though I don't truly believe it. The chances are slim to none, even if I made it into an apartment, and get a steady job to pay the rent, and buy food and clothes, I would be lucky.

I blame my father, after all, he DID have to go and get himself drunk all the time and abuse me. If he hadn't decided to become a drunk, which was the only reason he was abusive, then we could have been a happy family. But, NO, he just HAD to be a drunk, he just HAD to be the sorry excuse for a human being that he was.

But, I don't need to worry about that now, all I need to worry about was running away from those damned cops. And so I run.

I finally make it to my rooftop. Well, it's TECHNICALLY not MY rooftop, but its what I call home. My bed happens to be near the edge of the rooftop, just a mound of stolen blankets under the stars, completely open to the elements. It sucks when it rains, because it's cold, but I have a rain tarp and two metal fold chairs that have been on the top of the roof for probably longer than I've been alive. With these three items, I make a makeshift tent, but only when necessary. Which it isn't tonight, because the night sky is clear, and the moon is out.

One advantage of having my home on top of a roof was that the view is like no other. Gotham at night is _beautiful_.

All of the city lights blinking in the distance, outlining large buildings like lights on a Christmas tree, just stunning. Seeing the city at night is one of my favorite hobbies, other than solving riddles, and puzzles. When I lived with my dad and later at the orphanage, I would always find a way to get my hands on some type of puzzle, be it Sudoku, crossword, math, or a riddle. The thing I always had above the others at the orphanage was my wit. Sometimes, to mess with them a bit, or to stall for some time, I would tell them a riddle, or a math problem, and while they were trying to figure it out, I would slip away. It was a very useful tool in getting out of tight spots with the bullies.

Who knew it would come in handy later in avoiding the law as well? Being clever as I am gives me an edge, an edge that I have kept for almost twelve years now. I have always been able to figure out shifts of certain employees at stores I was about to rob. I could figure out patterns, and could always avoid being caught on camera. If they had evidence of my theft, then I would have been caught by now. Which I haven't and never will.

So, here I am on my roof, watching the city lights, and listening to the sounds of Gotham at night. The police sirens, honking horns, engines, squealing tires, and the wind as it rushes between the buildings...it's all a symphony to me. Quietly, I go to sit on my 'bed', and walk over to the side of the building. Breathing the night air, I close my eyes and fall into a deep sleep.

(-Time skip brought to you by (Name)...and the wondrous city of Gotham!-)

I sleep until noon, waking up to see the bright sun directly above me, shining in my groggy eyes. Blinking and putting up my hands in an attempt to block out the light, I sit up, and then stretch. It may not seem like it, but sleeping on a roof, on just a pile of blankets isn't the comfiest thing in the world. Groaning, I get up, and look down at the same filthy clothing I've been wearing for the past six months. (I had managed to somehow steal clothing from stores, without being caught)

Though, sometimes, when I try taking those magnetic tags off, I get random ink spots on my pants, and shirts. But, I could care less, I'm homeless, and on the streets, who the hell cares what my clothing looks like?

If Gotham is beautiful at night, it loses all its glory come daybreak.

The buildings look instead of giant Christmas trees, they look like big gray foreboding monsters, the factories like some wild animals spewing smoke into the air. It's definitely not as wondrous to look at during the day.

While I sit here, I debate on what to do for today. I figure scouting out some new targets is a good idea, but I usually save that for afternoon, it's still the middle of the day. So, I decide to just wander the city a bit.

(===Time skip brought to you by Polyvore!===)

It's nearing nighttime, and I am planning my next move.

By the time one o'clock comes around, I had started to find targets, some, just innocent bystanders in the street, whom I pick-pocket without being detected. Others, stores, which I will wait until night falls to make a move on. From the people I had pick-pocketed, I have gained at least forty dollars, half of which I will be saving, or more like three-quarters of which I will be saving, for things I need, like food. But, for right now, I have an entire loaf of fresh Italian bread, safely hidden under the piles of blankets on my roof.

Now, the sun is just starting to go down, and part of my mind appreciates the beauty of the golden sun coating the buildings in streams of quickly fading sunlight, before it sinks over the horizon, and the moon's cool blue light replaces it, as it rises over the other horizon. But, the rest of my brain is focusing on how I am supposed to break into this shop, if it's even possible with the little resources I have. Some nights, I go home empty handed, all because I can't figure out a way to actually break into the damned shop or store. Not even without getting caught, just in general, I physically can't break into the shop sometimes.

Sighing a little ruefully to myself, I approach the shop, glancing around to make sure I'm not being followed, or watched. I've never been caught before, and I'm not about to start now. After ascertaining that I am, indeed, not being watched, I begin to examine the lock on the door, and smile to myself. Just a padlock, easy.

Reaching into my pocket, I find my trusty lock-picking kit, a small box with several small, yet strong tools inside that are made specifically for lock-picking. I had learned this trait at the orphanage, picking the lock on the window of my room to sneak out at night, one of the older, nicer kids had taught me, before he got adopted. Said the reason he was in the orphanage was because he had been alone for years, and stole stuff to keep himself alive, like food, and clothing. Eventually, the cops caught him, and instead of throwing him in jail like they could have, they decided to send him to the local Gotham orphanage. He was a lot like me, had a knack for problem solving, and was very intelligent. Often using that intelligence to his advantage. He said that he often left little 'surprises' at the stores that he robbed for the owners when they returned in the morning. Said they were clever traps of his own invention.

Though, he seemed a bit nuts at times, and psychotic at others, he was always _very_ kind to me. Needless to say, I was happy he got adopted, but sad to see him go because he was the closest thing to a friend that I had.

What was this boy's name? That's easy to remember.

His name was Edward Nigma.


	2. Chapter 2

(Riddler's POV)

It's just a normal day in my life, I wake up, solve the crosswords, and Sudoku's in the Gotham Times, have my coffee, get dressed in my suit, and find another set of targets. Ah, today is beautiful!

I walk down to my basement, aka, my lair, where I have hundreds of screens depicting security footage all over the city, with none the wiser that I have access to that footage. So, if I please, to help out a few fellow criminals, or to help myself and my henchmen, I can delete certain parts of the footage, there will just be a gap in the footage, a blank space if you will. It's honestly immensely helpful, especially if I needed to delete evidence.

Or, if I want to be nosy. Which I most certainly want to be right now.

So, I look at my large screen, and search for anything interesting, wondering if there are any criminals that need my help. I am also connected to all of Gotham's security systems, so I could disable it from the outside. But, in short, I am just simply curious. You see, it's completely in my nature to be excessively nosy, so I like to spy on shops, people, and especially the GCPD. Many nights go by with nothing but cars passing by, people walking out in the night, nothing truly interesting. As I scan the screens quickly, my attention is caught by one screen depicting a young woman, who is wearing jeans, old converse, a jean jacket and a flannel shirt. I can't see her face from where I am, but I stop on this screen because this girl is about to break into a deli. I decide to have a little fun and help her.

I get to work right away. The outside is locked by a large padlock, and I'd noticed that she has a lock-pick. It's strangely familiar to me how she approaches the lock, and expertly puts in the tools, having the lock undone in seconds. Impressive. A lock she most likely has never broken into before, not that specific lock, anyway, and she undoes it in seconds. I find myself becoming more interested in this stranger by the second. She opens the grates in front of the doors, and goes to the door itself. Now, it's my turn. Because I, am Edward Nigma, and the most intelligent man in existence, I know exactly where this girl is, and what the security system is that's guarding the front door. I go into the system and hack it before she can pick the door's lock, with a final push of a button, the system shuts down. I'll also remember to erase any and all security footage in the area. I watch as the girl opens the door, and flinches, expecting an alarm of sorts, but straightens when there's nothing.

I laugh at my own success, then diligently watch the girl continue on through the shop. She goes behind the counter, where the meat and cheese is stored. Using her lock-pick, she gets through the lock hindering her from reaching the meat. I assume that she is either very, very poor, or that she's homeless. So, in a way, helping this girl steal the food isn't all bad. She needs it. The nameless girl grabs a hunk of Swiss cheese, and about a pound of bologna. Then she deftly slides the glass back in place, and locks it with her pick again. Tucking the meat and cheese into her jacket, she jumps over the counter, and leaves the shop, shutting and locking the doors behind her. Quickly, she looks around, and then bolts down an alley. I watch her until I can't any longer. But, I am determined, very, very determined to find this mystery girl.

I have a certain sympathy for those who have to live that way, unless they are an imbecile, which this girl is not. Maybe, if I find her, I'll offer her a place to stay, in return that she will become one of his minions, of course. There isn't even really an 'if' about whether I'll find her or not, I will. I am Edward Nigma, The Riddler, and when I want something, you should be damn sure that I'll find a way to get it, no matter what.

So, I get on my mask, suit, top hat, grab my staff, and set out into the city to find this mystery girl. As I do with most people before or upon meeting them, I wonder if she's good at riddles, and if she has any good ones of her own that he can use.  
He doubts it, he's the best there is at riddles. I will admit that I'm very vain, to say the least, I think highly of myself, above all of mankind.


	3. Chapter 3

(Your POV)

I make it back to my rooftop, having stolen some bologna, and some Swiss cheese for dinner, and maybe lunch tomorrow. Taking out my pocket knife, I slice two pieces of bread, two slices of cheese, and three slices of bologna. If only I had stolen some mayonnaise. _'Oh, well, its better than nothing, I guess.'_ I think. I make the sandwich and am about to take a bite, when a voice sounds from somewhere behind me.

"Well, then, that doesn't look like much of a meal." A male voice states, and, for some reason, the voice is somewhat familiar. I turn, and my eyes widening at the same time that my eyebrows raise in question.

Right behind me is a tall, thin man with a bright emerald green...everything. From his suit, to his tie, and shoes, to his top hat, to his glasses and staff, he is _all_ emerald. His face is very angular, very handsome, and very familiar...though I can't put my finger on it.

Then, his expression pretty much matches mine, a hint of recognition, but confusion because neither of us could figure out where they knew the other from.

"I-I'm sorry." I eventually say. "H-have w-we met?"

(Riddler's POV)

I follow the mystery girl, the one who intrigues me so, and am slightly surprised to see that she lives on a rooftop. I watch her for a while, without her knowing I am there. Watched as she unloaded her spoils, and sliced them with a pocket knife to make a sandwich for dinner. Right as she is about to take a bite, I interrupt.

"Well, then, that doesn't look like much of a meal." I state, and she freezes, dropping her crudely made sandwich to the pile of blankets she sits on. Then she turns.

She _looks so familiar!_

Though they are much older, much more intelligent than I remember, I know those eyes, just _where_ do I know them from? And her (h/c) hair cascading down her back, I've seen hair like that only once before. Everything about her is familiar, so _why can't I remember her name?_ Her face, so beautiful in the moonlight, scrutinizes me, as I do to her, leaving me to think that she recognizes me, also. I must ask her name.

Just as I am about to do just that, she pipes up in a stuttering voice.

"I-I'm sorry." She says. "H-have w-we met?"

Then, her voice! Oh, I'd know that voice anywhere, even though it has changed a bit with age! I know that voice!

"Yes, I believe we have, miss (l/n)." I state, absolutely positive that this is the girl whom I had befriended in the orphanage that was the bane of my existence. "In fact I believe i have not seen you since I left the orphanage with all of the other buffoons." I explain.

(Your POV)

Again, I know that voice, he knows my name, so obviously I _had_ met him before. Then, he mentions the orphanage, and everything clicks together. The way he talks, very intellectual, how he refers to the others as 'buffoons', those brilliant green eyes, that familiar face... _'oh my gods!'_ I think. This man, this familiar stranger could only have one name.

Edward Nigma.

Without thinking, I throw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his frame, and hugging him tightly. Eventually, he hugs back, though a little bit more ginger than my boisterous greeting. I pull away in embarrassment, and look down with a blush. Once the blush dies down, I look back up at him and revel in the finding of a long lost friend.

"Edward?" I say in disbelief.

"Yes, dearest (y/n)?" He replies with a smirk, the way he says my name with the endearment sends an involuntary thrill through my body.

"Could it really be you?" I voice doubtfully. "After all these years?"

"Yes, it most certainly can be me." Edward says, and then smiles the lopsided smile I haven't seen for almost ten years now. I've missed that smile.

"It is you." I state in amazement. "So, how's life been treating you, Ed?" I question a bit ruefully.

"Not bad at all." Edward replies, then frowns. "Though, I can see that life hasn't been treating you as kindly. What happened, (y/n)?"

And so I explain everything, from my escape from the orphanage, to just last night, when this store owner seemed to have forgotten to leave on his security alarm system. He chuckles at this part, though I ask him why, he says it's just the ironic coincidence that had tickled his funny bone. How I had missed talking with Edward like this, as friends. In turn, I ask for what he's been up to the past ten years. He's reluctant, but does explain. Saying he's up to his old antics, still stealing, still leaving clever little traps for the owners. Sometimes, just leaving traps for people just because he felt like it. I get a little disturbed at this part, but keep quiet, not wanting to interrupt or chase him off with accusations. Still, I wonder idly what exactly has changed in the past ten years. Has Edward taken a wrong turn?


	4. Chapter 4

(Your POV)

I look up at Edward. It really is good to see him, but he looks so much better off than I am. What I mean is that he's got his fancy suit, and I've got my dirty worn down clothing. So, it's kind of awkward and everything.

We both sit there talking for hours, and share laughs like we did before. Occasionally, I catch him giving me such a pitying look, that I have to look away. If there's one thing that I hate more than anything, it's being pitied.

"Hey, (Y/N)?" Ed asks. I look up in response, and see him looking out over the city as I've done many times before. "You know...what I mean is...I have room at my...um... _home_ , so if you'd like to, I mean. You could move in." He finishes awkwardly. Then throws me an apologetic glance. "I don't mean to offend, but I hate to leave you like this. As a friend, I couldn't possibly let you continue to live off of the streets, or rather rooftops, as you do now. It would make me feel much better to know that you're properly cared for and clothed. If you'd like I could get you an apartment, and help you look for a job so you can live somewhat comfortably. That is, if you would rather do it somewhat on your own. I know you, so I know how independent you are." Ed explains then throws me the meekest smile I've ever seen on his face. I think a bit.

On the one hand, I don't want to hurt his feelings and it _would_ be nice to live under a roof with a friend, and clothes, and showers...but...on the other hand...

I can and have been doing it on my own for years and I will have to choke down my pride to accept this gracious offer. Maybe Ed hasn't gone as bad as I thought, at least he is still kind to the people that he wants to. Which, when anyone thinks about it, is how most people work. Maybe it won't be so bad to accept the first offer, it won't kill you, and would be a heck of a lot safer than "living off the rooftops", as Ed had put it. It would be nice to lay down in a bed for once in so many years of sleeping on a hard rocky rooftop, and to have access to clean clothes...it's almost irresistible to think about. But, I don't want to take advantage of Ed's hospitality, I'll agree, but demand that I be able to pay him rent or something in repayment. I will not allow him to do this for no cost on my side. I've already spent too many years stealing from probably innocent and unsuspecting people, I was going to stop the stealing, especially not from a friend. Not from a friend that's always been kind to me and stuck up for me and was offering to share his roof with me.

"Okay, Ed. I'll come live with you." I reply, glancing up at him, and holding up a finger before continuing. "But, I have one condition."

He nods eagerly. "Yes, anything, my dear."

"You'll allow me to repay you in some way or another. Otherwise it'll feel like stealing." I conclude. He gives me a funny look and then laughs.

" _Stealing?_ Really? You have even told me that you've stolen on a number of occasions to survive, and you have a problem with 'stealing' from me?" He says in wonder.

"It's not funny, and I don't steal from my friends, or at least not from the only real friend I've ever had." I insist. "Either I get to pay you, or no deal." I continue stubbornly.

Gone is the skepticism from his face. "You _are_ serious, aren't you? Well, then, with that in mind. I'll let you pay me, in work. As of right now, you work for me. I won't need you to do much, except help me out with certain things. Plus your skill with a lock pick is remarkable."

"You want me to help you break into places?" I say disapprovingly.

"Now, that's the only payment I want, so is it a deal?" Ed stands up and holds out his hand for me to shake. I stare at his hand, and stand up, debating. With a sigh, I realize that once Ed has his mind made up about something, he gets it, no matter what or who stands in his way. If I don't agree, he'll eventually find me again, and I'll be going to live with him whether I want to or not. Uneasily, I grasp his hand and shake it.

"Deal."

(Time Skip Brought to you by DC, where being a villain automatically makes you a better character than the hero, well, at least in Batman...)

Edward brings me to his "house"...yeah, house is a HUGE understatement. More like mansion, though not quite so big as the Wayne Mansion. I make the comparison out loud to Ed, but he simply changes the subject, which leads me to believe that he doesn't like Bruce Wayne for some reason, or at least doesn't like Wayne Enterprises. Very curious, because from what I know of Mr. Wayne, he's very kind and generous. Oh, well, it's hard to tell which people Ed will and won't like, unless you know their intelligence. Any person who can't at least add two and two together to get four is automatically on his dislike list. Ed just likes to surround himself with people who he can have a coherent conversation with.

But, back to that Mansion, well it's more like a Manor, really. Not _grandiose_ enough to be a Mansion. But, that doesn't mean it's any less breathtaking in beauty. I, who had never been one for the material things, even think it's marvelous. The outside is a light green, the color of mint mixed with fresh grass. In fact almost everything in there is either, green, gold, or purple. The trim of the house is a light gold color, and the front of the house is introduced by a rose bush encircled, roundabout, gravel driveway. It has a wide wrap around porch and a lovely porch swing. The inside is more Edward than the outside. The wallpaper in every room has Edward's trademark question marks on them, each room a variation of his three favorite colors. All in all the Manor has at least thirty rooms. Every one garnished in only the most grandeur of furniture. Soft, plush chairs and poufs and couches. a couple of rooms with large comfy beds with large canopies over them. Basically everything you can picture in the expensive house of a millionaire.

Ed leads me to the one room he hasn't shown me, and opens the door, watching with a smug smile as my jaw drops.

While the rest of the house is greens and purples and golds, my room is themed around something else. The ocean. (if you don't like the ocean, well, too bad. this is how it's gonna happen, if your gonna throw a hissy fit, just change it in your heads to whatever other theme you wish, kay?)

The walls and ceiling are the white blue of a sunny day at the beach and precisely in the center of the ceiling is a large lamp, probably signifying the sun. The floor is paneled in a very light wood that matches the pristine sand of a quarts beach. I look back up and see a white dresser with a mirror that is decorated with seashell designs. Then there's the closet, oh, the closet! It's large enough to fit another several small bedrooms in. It has long racks with empty hangers on them, but no clothes. This whole room is painted like a coral reef. With all the wonderful colors of the coral and fish. I head back into my room, and see the absolutely ENORMOUS bed on the opposite side of the room. The sheets and blanket are turquoise with question mark designs and the canopy is of royal blue netting. The lamp next to the bed has seashells molded into the stand. And there's a small balcony outside of the large floor to ceiling window, doors with a white net hammock swinging in the breeze with a large umbrella guarding it from the elements.

I turn back to Ed, and see him leaning against the doorway, still smirking, his lovely emerald eyes smug. I run at him and throw my arms around his neck. He just chuckles and hugs me back.

"So, I guess that means that you like it?" Ed says, looking down at me. I roll my eyes at him.

"Of course I do, but even _if_ you _didn't_ know that beaches are one of my favorite things in the world, I still would have loved it." I explain. He cocks an eyebrow.

"Why?" He asks, seeming simply curious.

"Because, it still would be a _room,_ somewhere for me to _sleep._ I could have cared less if the bed was tiny or didn't have those fancy sheets and canopy, because I'd still would have had a _bed!_ " I say as if it's obvious. "But I do appreciate the effort put in." I add giving him a peck on the cheek. "Thanks Ed." Then I realize something. "But, how did you know I was gonna move in with you, Ed?"

"Well, since leaving the orphanage, I've always hoped to run across you again someday, but with how big Gotham is, I was afraid I'd never find you." He says. "But, I've always hoped. So I made you a room once I got here, just in case I found you." Ed adds.

"Okay, but how did you know I'd move in with you even when you found me?" I inquire again.

"I didn't know for certain, but you don't know how much I've missed you (cutesy nickname)." Ed explains. "And I promised myself that if ever I were to find you, that I would never let you go again."


	5. Chapter 5

(The next morning)

I wake up much too comfortable. It's really _odd_ how comfortable I am. I _do_ live on a rooftop.

Then, I wake up more and the whole of last night comes rushing back to me.

Edward, Edward had found me, miraculously, and invited me to live with him, amazingly. Then, he told me that he's been searching for me for years, astoundingly. I never thought myself the _most_ interesting person in the entire world. But, for Ed _Nygma_ to come searching for me, I had to be pretty special. At least to him, anyway. Again, I glance around the lavish room I fell asleep in, _my_ room, awestruck. I wonder where the wonderful Ed is now. I have to thank him again. Not only has he given me something I desperately need, a roof over my head, but he gave me something else I've been missing sorely for many years. A friend. The one and only friend I've ever really had, and somehow he found me. I _will_ ; however, have to ask him about _how_ he found me...later...right now, I need to take a shower. Bad. Last night I had gone into the closet after dinner to find it miraculously stocked with clothes just my size. Another thing to ask him about. I quickly found a nightgown and clean undergarments, and threw them on. So tired after a full meal, and emotional exhaustion. Ed had found me late at night, and immediately told his, (cringe) servants to cook me a meal, which I ate gratefully, thanking the servers before they left the room, and of course, thanking Ed for the umpteenth time that night. Now, I have a chance to shower, or rather less of a chance of falling asleep in the shower and getting a concussion.

But...hungry...breakfast...or is it lunchtime? Looking out my window, I discern the height of the sun and conclude that, yes, it is lunchtime. Actually, a little while past lunchtime. I go downstairs gleefully, skipping along the way and find Ed in the little resident kitchen nook nursing a hot cup of coffee or tea. The reason I say resident, is because there are two kitchens, a large, restaurant type kitchen for the servants, and a smaller normal-ish sized kitchen for the residents to use, basically meaning Ed and I. Traipsing past Ed and starting to open and close cabinets, I look for a mug. I grow frustrated at the complexity of the task. There are waaaaaaaayyyyy too many damn cabinets. With each new cabinet, I slam the doors a little harder. Ed, instead of asking me if I need any help, just sits back with a cup of steaming whatever-it-is, and smirks at me, seeming amused. I finally give up and lean against the counter, feeling put out. Why is it so hard to find a goddamn coffee mug?! Then, Ed decides to speak.

"You look mad." He observes.

 _No shit Sherlock_. "Nope, I'm just peachy keen, Ed." I reply, sarcasm dripping in my tone. _That_ only makes him smirk bigger, and walk about five steps, open a cabinet door and unveil a plethora of coffee mugs. I stubbornly cross my arms. "How do you know that's what I'm looking for, _Nygma_?" I say, using his last name because of my irritation at how well he knows me.

"Because, _(L/N)_. You looked right at my cup and then went searching." He replies, grabbing a cup from the cabinet and continuing to smirk at me. He hands it to me. I grumble my thanks and go to pour myself a cup of coffee. My movements are jerky and angry, which just makes him laugh harder. I scowl.

"What's so funny, Nygma?" I seethe. He just chuckles again.

"You and I both know that you're just irritated that I was right about something...again. So let me end the feud, and apologize for upsetting you by promising to take you out tonight for dinner. It doesn't have to be anything fancy, you can pick whatever place you want, even McDonald's." He offers. I look at him and realize that he's being serious.

"What, you think I would rather go to McDonald's, just because I was homeless?" I tease, mocking anger. He starts backtracking.

"I didn't mean it like...what I'm trying to say is...I know you and you've never been one for fancy things anyway...?" He tries to cover up, I actually caught him off guard, something people rarely ever do. I surprise him, yet again, by dropping the angry demeanor and laughing.

"I'm just kidding Ed, but you should have _seen_ the look on your face when I said that, priceless." I voice. "And who thought I'd ever catch _you_ off guard, Mr. Nygma." He doesn't seem to think it's very funny. Instead of laughing with me he scowls, much in the same way I had when I was irked earlier. Then, he walks over to me till he's towering over me. Not, that _that_ could ever intimidate me. Goodness, no! It just makes me laugh harder. Until I see his ears and face starting to turn red. Too far, way too far. Oops. Okay, maybe he _can_ be a little intimidating if he really wants to be.

"Ed?" I say, coming off the high of catching him off guard for once, and starting to be a little more timid, more cautious.

Then, the red fades from his face and he starts laughing, grabbing my head in the crook of his arm and rubbing his knuckles against my scalp.

"Still as gullible as ever, I see." He jests. "I missed you (cutesy-nickname). So much." I feel the sting of tears in my eyes and bite them back, but fling myself at Ed anyway. I have my best friend back, and nothing is going to take that away.

"I missed you too, Rid, you too." I feel him stiffen at the old nickname I have for him. He always liked riddles, and we always came up with ones together. So, I decided to call him Riddler. That started when we were little, and I kept it up until he left. Well, him leaving isn't going to rid him of that name. Whatever he thinks about my nickname for him, I have missed my Riddler, and can't bear to have him leave me again.


End file.
